What You're Missing
by LuvEwan
Summary: The decision to train Anakin Skywalker cost Qui-Gon Jinn his friendship with his former apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Three years have passed, and the void left by the events on Naboo are taking their toll. A complete vignette.


**What You're Missing**

A Vignette

Written by LuvEwan

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

PG

_The decision to train Anakin Skywalker cost Qui-Gon Jinn his friendship with his former apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Three years have passed, and the void left by the events on Naboo are taking their toll._

(This is getting a little ridiculous. I wasn't even going to write the first one because I shouldn't be getting distracted, and here I am, writing an alternate universe to my own alternate universe! Beat me senseless if you wish—but since I have little sense to begin with, it's really just a waste of your time. I wrote this because I was struck with the opening scene, and because I kept thinking of the sniveling readers and their "No dead Obi-Wan's!" I know some people thought that an alternate would ruin the original ending, but I wouldn't have written this if I didn't really want to. So here's the end of my _Rubber Soul _arc, and if you thought the ending of _If I Needed Someone_ was sufficient, then you're just as wicked as me for enjoying a dead Obi fic. Moohoohaha.)

**O**

Nowhere Man

Please listen

You don't know what

You're missing

Nowhere Man

The world is at your command

He's as blind as he can be

Just sees what he wants to see

Nowhere Man

Can you see me at all?

Nowhere man

Don't worry

Take your time

Don't hurry

Leave it all

'Til somebody else

Lends you a hand…

He's a real Nowhere Man

Sitting in his nowhere land

Making all his nowhere plans

For nobody

Making all his nowhere plans

For nobody. –John Lennon & Paul McCartney

**O**

The ivory dots swirled, riding the strong winds of midnight, nearly as bright as the stars pitched above them. The sky was a mélange of ever-shifting palette, deepest black and palest hue of frost, detail etched in silver.

But the creatures of most captivating luminosity were the children, bundled in fur, and racing with flushed cheeks through the thickening blanket that covered the grounds of the Jedi Temple. Qui-Gon watched them from the framed view at his window. He smiled as a slushy ball was hurled at a group of younglings; the attack ended in delighted giggling and much good-spirited reciprocation. Dwellers of Coruscant were accustomed to the non-seasonal climate of their surroundings, but the sudden flurry had still caused half the Temple to leap from their beds, and rush to be witness to the rare slice of winter.

Even older members of the Order had been drawn from sleep's gentle oblivion to enjoy the moment. Councilors and Knights, Masters and Padawans, they all gathered beneath the soft, glistening scatter.

His Padawan had alerted him to it. Anakin's eyes were lit with mystified excitement and he'd wriggled halfway into his robe by the time he coaxed Qui-Gon into waking. The young apprentice managed to regulate his steps for nearly a quarter of the way before abandoning pretense and breaking into a dead run. Qui-Gon had followed, gratified by the joy radiating from the boy—and a bit disconcerted that his sprints couldn't quite match Anakin for speed, though the Master's legs were considerably longer and far more experienced.

He leaned against the wall, bones recovering from the wet chill, damp hair coiled at his neck. _It must've been the late hour. The scamp caught me by surprise. _

In fact, the entire night had been a series of surprises, though all were not so lovely as the icy drifts.

_Qui-Gon observed his Padawan submerge himself in the whimsy of the moment, and his heart contracted with painful warmth. He had striven to instill the importance of living in the now with each of his students, but the stress of their chosen path often led to wandering thoughts and overtaxed souls. To see Anakin with an irrepressible grin of innocent wonder was a gift he would cherish long after the night's scenery had faded from his recollections._

_He stood away from the playful roughhousing, on a flat patch of snow beside other Masters._

_Depa glanced at him from the gentle shadows of her cowl. "Master Jinn, your Learner looks to have set aside his brooding nature."_

_"Indeed," Qui-Gon smiled, looking over at the boy, "For tonight, anyway."_

_Her lips curled in a smirk, "Well, one cannot evade one's true nature for long. Anakin will brood. He takes after his Master that way."_

_The man sighed. "I wish I could cure him of that. It takes its toll, after awhile."_

_Depa touched his shoulder briefly. "He's young. As most of us are, tonight." In the distance, a gaggle of crechelings were demanding her attention, and she couldn't help her soft laughter. "Some more than others, of course."_

_He watched her go, then returned his eyes to Anakin. The child was blissfully oblivious to onlookers, engrossed in the powdery wonder that had dropped from the sky. The young Padawan was a contradiction, on occasion. One moment, he was darting ahead of the pack, confidence evident in every line of his body. But other times, he seemed dependent on his Master's approval, and a kind word was like rebirth._

_Privately, Qui-Gon was thankful for those instances of need. It made him less critical of his own. And those came far more often, as gray outnumbered chestnut and listless cognizance replaced easy sleep._

_Then again, the heart could long for a trespass into isolation, to be away, to be alone. He turned from the midnight festivities, and began to walk down an avenue of frosted grass._

_The trees shuddered and rustled in the grip of the frigid breeze. He tucked his hood in closer to his chapped face, and let his hands disappear within his sleeves. He traveled along the empty path and listened to the silence, wishing for that same absence of complication in his head. Soon, his legs were moving but he was unaware of it, gone into a shallow layer of meditation. On the fringes of his awareness was Anakin, a familiar presence…_

_And then, suddenly, another._

_Qui-Gon opened eyes he didn't remember closing._

_Instantly, he thought of turning away, but the eyes settled on him were piercing, and they nailed his feet to the perfectly white ground._

_The gaze had borrowed chill from the air. "The Temple is a vast place, Master Jinn. And yet.."_

_"I didn't know you were here." The Master assured him, after clearing his throat, "I didn't think you would be out at all."_

_Obi-Wan crossed his arms tighter. His hood was folded down, and his hair was dusted with snow. "On the contrary. I was standing here when it began."_

_Qui-Gon studied him with a critical crook of his brow. "Aren't you cold?"_

_Standing beneath the freezing leaves of an old tree, it must have been difficult to forbid himself from shivering, but Obi-Wan managed, and shook his head. "It isn't so bad."_

_Qui-Gon nodded, though he was not in agreement. Silence tore through the seams of their talk, welling up in the atmosphere and within the Master's chest. He never thought, during the twelve years of this young man's tutelage, that they would ever find themselves on such bitter hearth, with nothing to say. Theirs had been a Force-blessed partnership, for their steps had always fallen in unison, sentences were shared in that one could begin and the other could finish, knowing the exact words to utter. They fought, sometimes harshly, but the wounds were felt as a fleeting, phantom pain. They had loved one another, with the incredible and indescribable depth one reserves for their dearest friend, most trusted partner—the sole member of their family._

_But, as he looked into the cerulean orbs chiseled from ice, Qui-Gon realized that perhaps things had not been the ideal he preferred to think. He was compelled to spend hours in the strict company of his own mind, to resurrect felled demons and agonize over past mistakes. And now he wondered where his Padawan had been, when the door was closed._

_Did Obi-Wan ever see him as a confidant, the shoulder to lean on? A father?_

_Or, when looking back on his apprenticeship, did Obi-Wan's periphery fill with the unyielding wall of that door?_

_And when Qui-Gon declared his intention to train Anakin, did Obi-Wan perceive it as another slight, that the boy—a veritable stranger—was ushered into a place where Obi-Wan had always been forbidden?_

_Was that why shadows had finally sated their lust for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his face was a grim composition of gray? Why his grace was now sad, that of a man walking towards his sacrificial purpose?_

_Qui-Gon stood there, wishing that he could provide comfort without being rejected. There were things that sorely needed to be said, but certain ears were unwilling, and his aging heart couldn't bear for those confessions to be ignored. His memory drifted to the last attempt at divulgement, the further crushing of Obi-Wan's battered soul._

'It's too late.'

_Maybe it was. It killed Obi-Wan to speak of that moment, that decision that so ruled the days after. What could be done now, both of them on opposite roads, set never to parallel?_

_He had wanted Obi-Wan to admit the pain, and doing so had only left more wounds. He couldn't force that on him again._

_Qui-Gon swallowed hard and reached out with cold hands, to lift the cowl over Obi-Wan's head. "Have a good night."_

_He walked away, stifling the screams inside himself with the conviction that finally, he was doing what was best._

It was nearly morning now. The first tinges were coloring the sky, but the children were fiercely battling the weariness, including Anakin. Qui-Gon allowed him to continue in his play, assured that the other Masters would see that he was watched over.

He had walked away from his former apprentice, and found that he had to keep walking, away from the laughter and collective happiness, to this room that had been his shelter after moments of terrible, twisting anguish and betrayal…that which he suffered, and that which he caused.

Yet, this room was built of days untarnished by time and circumstance. Despite the separation he had imposed on them both, Obi-Wan was _here_, in the mementos his Master had saved from his childhood, in everything.

It was torture to be among ghosts, but he embraced that torture. It was all he had left of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon sighed and turned from the window. Anakin would be back soon. They would talk before he sent the boy to bed. He couldn't afford to ruin another precious relationship.

He headed for the common room to await the child's return—then stopped at his desk. Obi-Wan sat there, within the perimeters of a holocube, smiling at him. Qui-Gon trailed a fingertip along the outline of the face.

The door chime pulled him away, for which he was glad. There had been the threat of hot moisture in his eyes, and that wouldn't do. Anakin deserved more. His Padawans, they had all deserved more.

Qui-Gon smoothed his hair and palmed open the door.

He was confronted with the visage from the holocube once more, but the smile had vanished. Obi-Wan stood, the hood still drawn around his head, the snow melting down his cheeks.

"Ob—"

Qui-Gon was cut off by the arms that wrapped around him. A head nestled against his shoulder, and he was struck motionless. For a moment, he could do nothing.

"I'm always cold." Obi-Wan rasped, his grip tightening, "Master…it's always cold for me."

Slowly, Qui-Gon felt something inside thaw and, finally, forgive what he had done. He brought his arms around Obi-Wan, and it wasn't the pain of holding onto insubstantial flesh. Obi-Wan was real, as were the tears from clenched eyes, pooling onto his neck.

The poison was draining away. The silence was banished.

At last, Qui-Gon was able to cradle the person he so foolishly forsook. At last, he would say everything, and he knew where to begin, because it was right. It was the moment.

"I know, my Obi-Wan. I know."

_The End_


End file.
